


I Know How Much Baseball You Played Last Summer

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-07-17
Updated: 2000-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:04:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11132868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Toni Lake, hard-hitting reporter from Action Sports, meets a Chicago detective who strongly resembles 3rd baseman Ace Leary.  (Spoilers for Doctor Longball)





	I Know How Much Baseball You Played Last Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Toni Lake

Toni Lake, hard-hitting reporter from Action Sports, gets a second interview with Ace Leary.

Disclaimer: The characters of Ray Kowalski and Toni Lake are the property of Alliance Communications. I'm borrowing them for a few moments, with no intention of disrespect or hope of personal gain.

 

I Know How Much Baseball You Played Last Summer

by: Melanie M

 

Ray ventured a shy smirk as he handed the styrofoam cup of station house sludge to Toni. "You don't remember me, do you?"

She took a cautious sip, then made a face that told him that she couldn't decide whether to swallow or spit. She apparently decided to swallow, then shot him a reproachful look. "You're not the guy from Starbucks, huh?"

"Nah. Starbucks just ain't forward-thinkin' enough to buy into this coffee." Ray grinned at the reporter. She wasn't baring her midriff today; her pale green cotton sweater covered her torso completely while leaving very little to the imagination. "Me, I figure they could sell a ton of this stuff--call it 'Kaffee Cop' and serve it with a raspberry jelly donut."

She handed the cup back to him. "Is that your off-season training regimen, Ace?"

"Hah!" he crowed. "So you do remember me!"

"Don't flatter yourself, Detective. I'm a professional reporter, not a fan--I knew who you were before you ever took the field."

"You did not."

"Oh, please. Get real! Three-eighty average, power-hitting third basemen don't just show up for the last series of the season, falling out of the blue sky like Robert Redford in The Natural."

Ray chuckled. "Robert Redford?"

"Gawd. Baseball runs on statistics, and pro ballplayers have records. When I couldn't find anything on Ace Leary except the drivel the team was trying to sell, I made a call."

"A call? Who'd ya call?"

"The Diamond Dogs."

"The who?"

She laughed, a sweet melodious sound. "Your TEAM, Ace. The Moose Jaw Diamond Dogs."

"Oh."

"They never heard of you."

"Oh."

"So I asked Bernie about you, and she told me the straight-up story." Toni glanced toward the opposite end of the bullpen, where the young deputy was staring across Francesca's shoulder at the computer screen.

Ray shook his head. "You knew. . . but you didn't blow my cover."

"No, I didn't. And don't you forget it; I'll collect on that debt someday." She pointed a finger at his nose, and grinned. "So--your professional baseball career started and ended that weekend. Two games long. And in those two games, you had seven at bats and one hit."

"Right."

"One forty-three average."

There was a long silence. "That bad?"

"The good news is, your fielding percentage is one thousand."

Ray blushed, heat rising from his neck to his hairline. "One chance, one catch."

Toni popped her gum. "It was a good catch. Smokin' line drive, hell--you looked just like Brooks Robinson."

"I did? Thanks."

"Ace--"

"Ray."

"Whatever. Ace, you hit a game-winning grand slam in the bottom of the ninth of the last game of the season. Do you have any idea how many men and women would sell their souls for a chance to do that?"

"Really?"

"Including me. It was a spectacular shot."

He smiled. "It was, wasn't it?"

"You go back to the instructional leagues, spend a few years working your way up, you might have the right stuff to be a real Willison Hawkeye."

"Jeez! Ya think so?"

"Or, you can stay here and be who you really are."

Ray took a long, deep breath, his eyes closed, his mind's eye focused on a field too green to be real. The truth was, the memory was far sweeter than the reality had been. He opened his eyes, and tossed the congealing coffee into the trash can under his desk. "Miss Lake, would you like to go out for some real coffee?"

"Ummm. . . ." Her gaze darted about the room, everywhere but at him. Finally, she found the answer she needed. "Thanks for the offer, Detective, but I'm afraid I don't date ballplayers."

"Yeah, but I--"

"Hey, Toni!" Bernie's throaty voice rang out from the opposite side of the bullpen. Francesca was slipping a stack of photocopies into a manila folder for the deputy, who was putting on her dark brown uniform jacket. "I got what I need here. You ready to go?"

"Thanks for the invitation, Ace. I'll have to take a raincheck."

"See you in spring training, Toni."

*****************************

Applause, otters, flames--hot fudge sundaes--please send to melanie.m@erols.com .


End file.
